Shayla Black - Tempt me with darkness

's an immortal knight hungering for satisfaction.... soon as Marrok sees Olivia Gray's dark windswept hair and burning violet eyes, he's sure they've met in eons past. He's felt her soft gentle curves writhing in pleasure beneath his own hard powerful body...Morganna! For centuries, towering Marrok, once the mightiest of King Arthur's warriors, has endured a terrible curse cast upon him when he spurned the witch.

She's a modern woman about to discover ancient magic.... shares a mystical -- and irresistible -- connection with brooding Marrok. Soon after the sexy warrior appears in her erotic dreams, he abducts her, demanding she uncurse him. Their intense passion is more powerful -- and intimate -- than either of them has ever known. Olivia may be the key to unlocking the diary that will break Morganna's hold on his life. But in the wrong hands, the book also holds the power to destroy all magickind. As they search for answers, a ruthless wizard returned from exile is building an army of evil. When he discovers Marrok and Olivia have the diary, only their love -- with the help of a powerful group of magical Brethren -- can save them.

ONE

DAY

THE LUSH BANKS of a pond, a woman beckoned, familiar. Yet Marrok of Cadbury had never seen her face in his life.

grass and multicolored flowers rioted around her. A cityscape towered in the background. None of that held his gaze rapt. Her bare-to-the-skin nakedness and dangerous beauty did.

woman’s sable hair swept over one pale shoulder, curling under the swell of a generous breast topped by a berry nipple—and framing a birthmark he knew well.

no longer possessed the platinum tresses into which he’d once thrust his hands. Her new face was delicate—higher cheekbones, pert nose, pillowy mouth—but the siren could not disguise herself from him. Black lashes fluttered over violet eyes that had long haunted his nightmares.

.

crashed into him, a battering ram to the gut. Need stiffened his cock. He wanted her as he never had, with a frightening desperation. Bollocks! Was he daft enough to let her lure him to further doom?

hatred mixed with clawing desire. He tried to look away, but his gaze caressed her small waist, her curved hips, the moist flesh between her thighs glistening. Luminous, her smile coaxed him to touch her, challenged him to walk away.

didn’t—couldn’t—do either.

bewitched him more now than she had on their wind-drenched night of shared pleasure an eon ago. The strawberry mark low between her breasts brought back memories of pale moonlight surrounding them as he’d succumbed to temptation and tupped her senseless. For that mistake, he’d paid dearly.

the last fifteen centuries.

swirled around her like the mystical fog of legend, as if caressing her. Though she was deadly, Morganna in this new form captivated him. Today, society had clinical terms for his obsession. He cared not. Getting the treacherous bitch to release him from his hell…nothing else mattered.

an alluring curl of her fingers, she summoned him. Marrok gritted his teeth. To yield would only mean further torture. But his body betrayed him, inching closer, his cock swelling painfully. Cursing, he closed his eyes.

he must resist her to be free, he feared he was doomed.

opened his eyes as a fresh rush of desire slammed him. Want was a luxury; this woman he needed. The feeling was as new as a baby’s first breath…and as welcome as the plague. And likely illusory, merely one of Morganna’s tricks.

he dug his fingers into his thighs, her haunting eyes pleaded with him. Marrok very nearly surrendered to the urge to touch her.

she waved her hand. Suddenly, she clutched to her naked breasts the ornate red book he knew meant the difference between his life and death, and she backed away.

!

launched himself at her. They fell to the ground in a tangle of breaths, arms, and legs. The book fell beside them, its maddening lock still firmly closed.

he could grab it, she latched slender arms around his neck and arched, distracting him with her lush curves.

“Marrok, love me.”

plea spiked his fevered lust. He ached to sink deep into her. But he had to resist this fatal woman. Somehow.

“Release me,” he growled.

clung tighter, then writhed against his erection. By God, she was wet. He was on fire for her. A heartbeat from explosion. A mere moment from forgetting how treacherous she was.

“Open the book!”

“You want me.” Her whisper made him shiver.

deny that? A waste of time and breath.

she wriggled under him, lightning chased across his skin. Like a fool, he thrust against her and groaned. The need to utterly possess her screamed through him. Later, he’d remember all the reasons he could not.

dropped his hands to her thighs and pried them wider. “If you tempt me thus, you will take what I give you. All I give you.”

“Anything.”

’s nipples burned his chest as he lifted her legs over his arms. From one instant to the next, his clothes melted away and he poised himself at her entrance.

, he buried his face in her fragrant neck. Incredible. Inevitable. More intoxicating than ever. Marrok had sworn never to touch Morganna again—a promise he had kept for centuries—but now…he had to be inside her.

“Everything…” she encouraged.

he surged forward, Morganna grabbed the book. Desire chained him; he could not move, not even to snatch it from her grasp.

a wave of her pale hand, Morganna unlocked the volume. The cover fell open, revealing a hint of its pages, as she faded away.

“Give it to me!”

shouted at fog. She—and the book—were gone.

, she’d used her power against him. Desire sizzled deep but he was, as ever, cursed. Desolation slashed him, leaving his soul to bleed.

anguish made no sense. He’d never mourn Morganna’s loss. He would, in fact, spit on her grave if she had one.

“I am the key.” Her soft entreaty swept through the wind. “Find me.”

dragged himself to his feet, suppressing a primal scream. He must hunt her. That cityscape behind the pond he recognized as London. There, he could find her. His torment would never end without that book—and without a taste of her flesh.

him, something rattled. Marrok sat up with a startled gasp, his bed rumpled, eyes wide. Panting, he scanned his surroundings. Bare walls, carved bed. A sword beside his hand. Glock under his pillow.

cottage, not a mist-draped clearing. No Morganna.

book! Marrok whipped his gaze around. On his bedside table rested the leather-bound tome. The vehicle of his never-ending torment, the key to his freedom, was still here and still locked.

had been but a dream.

perhaps a message? Though it had been centuries, Morganna had once enjoyed reaching from her exile to taunt him in sleep. He dared not disregard the message—she had returned to this mortal realm as an ethereal brunette, able to unlock the volume and intent on thieving it.

rose, determined to find the sorceress in her new disguise. She alone could end the torture of his ages-old existence. Shadow and torment her he would, until she granted him what he wanted most in life.

.

sharp rap against the cottage’s front window startled Marrok—the same sound that had awakened him. He hadn’t had a visitor in a decade, and preferred it that way. Guests were both unexpected and unwelcome.

slid the book into the safe hidden beneath loose floorboards in his bedroom, then took up his sword and stalked down the hall. As he slid around the corner, his heart raced with the anticipation of impending battle. Morning sunlight seeped through the window, illuminating dust motes and casting a human shadow onto the gleaming wooden floor.

someone had come to take the book from him, he would greet them with bloodshed.

crept forward, crouched for attack. The shadow disappeared. A faint crunch of footsteps outside replaced the silhouette. He slipped toward the door silently, weapon in hand.

“Hey, freak of nature,” a familiar male voice called from outside, punctuated by another knock. “Are you in there?”

an annoyed sigh, Marrok yanked the door open to find a nightmare nearly as bad as the one that had awakened him. Golden hair spiked above sleek brows and wicked blue eyes. A glittery Hollywood smile belied the gifted wizard’s immense power. Bram Rion. Marrok groaned. Now he would never have any peace.

“Are you calling me a freak of nature? Coming from you, that is rich.”

“If today is your day to conduct beheadings, count me out.” Bram flashed the million-dollar smile that had seduced magickind into seeing things his way for four hundred years.

frowned and propped his sword against a nearby wall.

paused outside. “Are you going to invite me past the magic circle guarding your place, or must I continue to stand on the mat?”

“If I do not?” Marrok challenged, raising a dark brow. He was heartily tempted not to. The magical coxcomb amused him at times…but Marrok didn’t dare trust him.

“If you don’t let me past, I can’t tell you something juicy…”

would not go away until he spilled his secret, though Marrok cared little what the wizard had to say. He must find Morganna in her new guise, then force, coerce, or beg her into unlocking that accursed book and setting him free.

“Enter,” he huffed.

stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “You look like hell. Did you sleep in yesterday’s trousers?”

stared at his rumpled chinos. “Did you come all this way to be my mum?”

“If you need one…” Bram shrugged, mischief lurking in his eyes.

“What the hell do you want? Say it and be gone,” Marrok demanded, striding to his room to snatch a fresh T-shirt and old jeans out of a drawer. Then he trekked across the hall to his bathroom.

followed, lingering outside after Marrok slammed the door in his face.

donning fresh clothes, he turned to a mirror and slid a brush through his dark hair. Ancient eyes stared back at him, filled with misery, anger, and thwarted lust. He did look like hell.

“To talk to you,” Bram said through the door. “You know that only something gravely important could bring me to the Creepified Forest.”

“Important to magickind.” Not necessarily important to him.

“Since I’m the only friend you have, it’s important to you, as well.”

“I have no friends.” Marrok pictured Bram gritting his teeth. He smiled.

“All right, then. I am the only living being who knows of your immortality and still speaks to you.”

grunted and reached for his toothbrush. “I am not interested. I must hunt.”

“The local market too civilized for your Dark Ages upbringing?”

wrenched open the bathroom door, staring at Bram as if he were a bloodsucking insect. “Is magickind so starved for a comedian that you suffice?”

sighed. “I really have come for a reason.”

the wizard loved to antagonize him, Marrok knew the darling of magickind would not visit without cause.

“You will only pester me until I give in. Why are you here?”

“Because I’ve had a vision.”

. Being in the same room with anything or anyone magical was enough to give him hives. Having Bram around was like a permanent case of leprosy. “Why tell me? You must have a magical healer for this sort of thing.”

“Because when it comes true, it will involve you.”

“I involve myself in nothing.” He shouldered past Bram and headed for the kitchen.

“And all of magickind knows it. Ever heard of the Book of Doomsday?”

“Nay.”

“It’s also called the Doomsday Diary.”

uninvited guest placed his hand on Marrok’s shoulder. Immediately, he sensed a tightening under his forehead, then between the temples. Bloody hell, the bastard was trying to sneak into his thoughts. Marrok jerked away and slammed a mental door between them.

reared back in surprise, speculation on his face. Clearly, humans were often unable to block him from their minds. But Marrok hadn’t survived half of forever without learning a few tricks.

“Never have I heard of the accursed book by either name. Do not touch me or attempt to invade my head again, or I will slice you in two.”

“It would be amusing for you to try, human.” The wizard snorted. “You’ve never seen the book? It’s red with gilt inlays, and is small, ornate, and very old.”

sounded like… Marrok shoved the thought away, lest Bram read it. No reason to add fuel to his fire.

“You do know something.” Excitement revved up Bram’s face. “All magickind knows of the Book of Doomsday. It’s part of our folklore. I thought you might know of the book because it was created by my grandfather’s nemesis.”

“I did not know Merlin well. Why should I know of his enemies?”

“Well, Morganna was your lover.”

grimaced. “You have confused a one-time sating of lust with a real bond.”

“She’s the reason you’re immortal. She cursed you with the book, didn’t she?”

hell’s fire, how could Bram know that? “I know naught of it.”

“You’re lying.”

“Shove off!” Marrok stomped to the door, opened it, and gestured with a wave.

“A moment more…” The wizard sent him a sober stare. “I want to share my vision with you.”

“Of?”

“The future. Watch.”

“Keep your visions to yourself, you droning codpiece.”

ignored him, grabbed his arm, and waved a hand in front of his face. A picture appeared before Marrok’s eyes. He fell into it, unable to back away.

. A darkened home, once sprawling and lovely, now decayed. A small mass of people walked toward it. Some were clad in gray robes trimmed in red. Others wore normal dress and oddly vacant stares.

against his will, Marrok peered closer, then reeled back in shock. The people in robes dragged the others toward the house with ropes about their necks. The air of excitement surrounding the berobed was palpable.

“Who are the people dressed like friars?” he asked.

“Definitely not clergy. They’re part of the Anarki.”

flinched. Even in his isolation, he’d known of the chaos and fear they created in their rise to power two centuries ago.

inside the run-down manor, a man in robes waited in an empty room, surrounded by a circle of flickering candles. His face obscured, he hovered over the still body of a naked man who, if human, looked to be about thirty.

“Who lies there?” Marrok asked Bram.

“Mathias d’Arc.”

a seasoned warrior like Marrok shuddered at the name. Mathias was the magical equivalent of Genghis Khan, Caligula, Vlad Dracula, and Hannibal Lecter rolled into one. Cruel, clever, hedonistic, rapacious. Brilliantly evil. A wizard of great power and no conscience, Mathias wouldn’t be happy until everyone in his path was either enslaved or dead.

“What are the Anarki about?” Marrok hissed.

“Watch.”

the group entered the shadowed room, they formed a circle around the candles, pushing some of the entranced people inside, closer to Mathias, who lay still as death.

robed wizard who had been waiting stood at Mathias’s head and raised his arms. “We, the Deprived, have waited centuries for this night. The Privileged will hear our thunder and feel only terror until they give us all they’ve denied our kind. Until the ‘Social Order’ laws prohibiting any with ‘undesirable’ traits and bloodlines from holding vital positions are dissolved, they will know war and pain and death. They do not know that we, the faithful, have waited for salvation. Tonight, our patience will be rewarded.”

cheer went up from those in robes. The others were silent.

a distant part of the house, a clock chimed low and loud, gong, gong, gong… Twelve times. The room seemed to hold its collective breath. Then silence.

’s eyes opened wide.

him, the candles flickered. His followers gasped. The ceremony leader knelt, then whispered reverently, “You’ve returned!”

“My faithful Anarki…” Mathias’s voice was thin and strained. “My sleeping draught fooled the Brethren but you believed in me. They thought me dead?”

“Very much so,” the first replied.

“Excellent. Did they all pass into their nextlife?”

“Within days of your sleep.”

“Your name?”

“Zain Denzell.”

“Your father served me well.” Mathias smiled. “You have brought me what I need?”

nodded eagerly, then stepped around the circle, wending through the unresponsive bodies in street clothes. Finally, he grabbed a paunchy, middle-aged man and a young woman with blond ringlets in a cotton dressing gown and thrust them forward.

“Lovely. MacKinnetts?” Mathias asked.

“Yes. The Council member’s brother and his untransitioned daughter. You must be starved.”

nodded. “Indeed. Take the woman to my chamber. I will see to her very soon.”

robed servant did so. Marrok, watching, held his breath.

and straining, Mathias rolled to one side, facing the older man. Reaching for the center of his chest, Mathias snapped. The man blinked and gasped, then opened alert eyes.

“Oh good God!” He tried to scramble back. “You!”

“Me.” Mathias smiled weakly.

others in robes caught the old man.

“Shall we hold him?” one asked, his voice shaking with enthusiasm to serve.

“Yes. We must prove that the order of magickind is changing.”

MacKinnett continued to resist as Mathias struggled to his feet, then gripped the man’s throat.

“No. No!” The man scratched out. “Please…”

“Shut up! Were I not so starved for energy, I would draw out your punishment. Your anger and fear will provide me a bit. Your niece, with her young, ripe body, will provide me much more. Delicious.”

“Please, no,” MacKinnett babbled. “Auropha is a sweet girl with her whole life ahead of her. She knows nothing of peril or pain—”

“Then I’d best see to her education.”

him, Mathias peered at the MacKinnett lord. With a feral grin, he laid a hand across the man’s chest.

, MacKinnett started screaming. A film of blood oozed from his pores, seeping through his yellow shirt. He turned white, kicking and flailing. Then his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He slumped over, dead.

a wave, Zain removed the older man’s shirt, and Mathias’s mark spread across his entire chest like a series of infected boils.

“A job well done,” Mathias said to Zain. Now I will adjourn upstairs and restore myself fully with the girl. Her fear and rage will intoxicate me with power.”

“Dear God, he’s going to kill the girl as he did her uncle?” Marrok asked, appalled.

“A death like her uncle’s would be kindness. What she will endure will be worse. Much worse.”

looked at all the berobed followers standing about. “Will no one help her?”

“Who? The Deprived of magickind are ‘punishing her’ because she is Privileged. Mathias will use her to re-energize his magic and make an example of her.”

, Marrok reached for his sword. He had never condoned the rape and torture of innocents in battle. Mathias must be stopped. But when he rose to his feet, Bram pulled him back down.

“You can’t race into my vision. It hasn’t happened yet. Watch. There’s more to see.”

“The MacKinnett chit is a spitfire,” Zain said to Mathias. “She will give you a great deal of energy.”

“Excellent. Tomorrow, send the dead to their family. It’s time for the Privileged to know their worst nightmare has returned.”

“I will see to it.”

“And the other matter?”

“We’re still looking.”

“I must have that book. With it, what I can do is nearly limitless.”

“The Anarki will do whatever it takes. I vow it.”

vision turned black. Bram released Marrok slowly. He blinked, returning to the here and now.

he glared at Bram. “Bloody hell! You say that has not yet come to pass?”

“Not yet.”

released a relieved breath. “Then it may not. You have no proof.”

“Except the fact I’ve never been wrong in my life.”

prayed that was an overconfident boast and resented the horror Bram had made him feel for the brutalized MacKinnetts. “Why do you imagine I care?”

“This problem is going to knock on your door. Soon.”

“Because Mathias seeks this Doomsday Diary, which you think I possess?”

“Yes. No other book would give him half so much power. With it, all he must do is write his destructive wishes on a blank page to bring about any tragedy he wants—even Doomsday itself.”

Bram told the truth…and perhaps he’d created the horrific scene to manipulate Marrok into releasing the book so he could use it for his own ends. Everyone knew Bram was an ambitious knave. Mathias would first have to unlock the book to be able to use it…but as magical as he was, maybe he could.

“Certainly you can see that finding and safeguarding the book is imperative,” Bram went on. “Will you help me?”

“Mathias is magical, as are you. Cast a spell to ensure he can do no harm.”

“Nice thought, but magic doesn’t work like that. Mathias is born of a powerful bloodline with a strong tendency to produce sociopaths. As you saw, he gorges on others’ pain and terror—even forced pleasure. Those facts make him very strong. And if he returns, he has magical defenses we can only guess at. Please. Give me the book.”

grabbed him by his prissy Ralph Lauren collar and shoved him against the wall.

did not trust the wizard for an instant. As Merlin’s grandson, he was packed with powerfully magical genes. Marrok did not subscribe to the theory that his enemy’s enemy was his friend. “Speak no more of the book to me or you will feel my blade in your belly!”

shrugged out of his hold and straightened his shirt, clearly undeterred.

“I’ll take that as a no. Pity. A lot of people are going to die. But then, you see death as a blessing, don’t you?”

“Even if the book were within my grasp, why would I give it to you?”

“Because it will save you pain. Mathias will come for you once he realizes you possess it.” Bram crossed into the living area, where he sank into an overstuffed chair, propping booted feet on the table.

clenched his jaw. “I know naught.”

“Play dumb if you want, then.” Bram flashed a brittle smile. “But I have another reason for coming here. There’s someone I want you to meet, the owner of a new art gallery.”

was the last thing he had time for with Morganna returned from exile. “Nay.”

“This is a stellar opportunity. The place is called A Touch of Magic.” Swinging his feet to the ground, he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “It’s very fresh, and recently opened—”

“Naught you say of that interests me. I need a ride to London.”

“You? Facing civilization? Willingly?” Bram’s jaw hit his chest.

“I seek a woman.”

“Planning to test the limits of your curse again?”

did Bram know of that? Nosy coxcomb. Marrok resisted the urge to tear the wizard’s head off—barely. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

laughed. “The last woman you took to your bed disappeared for two days. That was a decade ago, wasn’t it?”

“Not another word.”

his arms over his chest again, Bram smiled. “I hear you astound humans and put even magical men to shame. But you’re never quite…satisfied, are you?”

refused to admit to Bram that he could not find satisfaction in sex, no matter how many women he bedded, how many orgasms he gave, or how close he came to achieving his own release. It would only give the wizard something new with which to torment him.

“When you meet the gallery’s owner, you may want to try your luck again. Olivia Gray already loves your carvings and she is quite dishy. Her magical signature is…interesting.”

“She’s one of your kind? Absolutely not! I seek one woman in particular.”

“Oh, this is intriguing. You actually know a woman? You haven’t left this place in years. Did you meet her in a ‘hot babes’ chat room?”

, Bram clapped him on the shoulder, and Marrok felt the wizard trying to steal into his thoughts. Wrenching away, he marched to the sword, lifted the weapon and whipped it through the air with a menacing whoosh. “Cease your infernal invasion!”

inched back. “Tell me about this woman. Maybe I can help.”

only help Bram would ever give him was a push into hell. “I know what she looks like, if not the name she uses now. I will find her.”

“Hmm. Old flame?”

flame, old enemy. “Take me to London.”

“I’ll take you wherever you wish to go.” Bram paused. “After you meet Olivia. She’s very interested in your art, and I promised her an introduction.”

reined in his frustration, wishing Bram would choose another day to be difficult. Or better yet, another target. His dream, the omen that could set him free, had finally arrived. Morganna was running loose somewhere in London. He would make the witch release him from hell.

“Antagonizing me amuses you, but I will not play today.”

“That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.” Bram shrugged, looking totally unapologetic. “Unless you want to hand over the book?”

the sword tighter, Marrok arched a brow. The damn Book of Doomsday wasn’t leaving his possession until he discerned exactly how he must use it to end his curse. There was just one way, according to Morganna, and he would find it.

, putting the bloody thing in the hands of someone magical was putting the fox in charge of the henhouse.

“Guess not.” Bram smiled tightly. “In that case, I hope you enjoy meeting Ms. Gray. I’ve shown her a few pictures of the pieces you sold in the past. She’s very impressed. I’ve already arranged a meeting for you two this morning. Won’t take long. Then the rest of the day is yours.” When Marrok resisted, Bram added, “Come now, you must have pieces to sell.”

. In the last three months, he’d carved his best work ever. Marrok’s gaze cut across the room to rest on a three-foot rendering of King Arthur and his enemy Mordred locked in mortal combat. Merlin and Morganna each hovered behind their champions, spinning magic to help their knights win.

the floor to the sculpture, Marrok stared at the angles of Morganna’s wooden likeness. Fear, fury, and a flash of desire tightened his gut. How could he have been so foolish as to tangle with that magical bitch?

it would end. Today, he would hunt her down and demand answers, even if he had to wring them from her pretty neck. He was unsure where to begin the search, but somehow he knew this feeling, her looming presence, would guide him.

his gaze from the carving, he turned to the door. “Fifteen minutes. No more.”

“Smashing. But until you give me the Doomsday Diary…” Bram grinned, “I’m your new best friend.”

soon as Bram parked three blocks off of Oxford Street, Marrok bolted from the hated automobile’s small confines. Warriors did not travel in motorized death traps, by God.

trekked through the gloom of London’s gray morning to a narrow little shop, where a purple sign flashed A Touch of Magic. With a cynical grunt, Marrok stared through the picture window. A clay rendering of Pegasus took up most of the display space. He studied the piece critically. The sculpture had symmetry, but lacked life and movement.

Bram opened the door, an electronic chime heralded their arrival. Two steps later, a wave of musky incense slammed his senses. That and the strains of a passionate ballad surged through him. Across his skin awarness burned and tingled.

woman had recently stood here. An enticing mix of light perfume over natural scent told him thus. He inhaled peaches and vanilla.

clatter of beads in a doorway at the back of the store brought his gaze across the room. A woman emerged, carrying an armload of boxes. He caught a glimpse of windswept dark hair and a fragile profile before she turned to deposit the load on the counter along the back wall.

movements seized his breath.

willed the woman to face him. Instead, she unpacked, swaying in time with the Celtic tune piping through the room. A dangerous slash of desire sliced his gut.

“Olivia?” Bram called above the music.

turned and smiled at the wizard.

sight was an invisible fist slamming into Marrok.

“Bram, thanks for coming by.” Her distinctly American voice rang in Marrok’s head as she shut off the music. “I know you’re busy. Did you get my message last week?”

“I did. Sorry. I haven’t heard anything more about your father. I’ll ask again. Nothing new from the investigator?”

shoulders slumped. “No, just an address for a crazy man who claims to be nearly five hundred years old. I’ll keep looking. I moved here to find him, and I’m not giving up.”

if just realizing they weren’t alone, Olivia peeked around Bram at Marrok. The welcome on her face faltered, fell. She covered lush lips with her hand and stared as if the sight of him shocked her.

could hardly be more shocked himself. Delicate cheeks, a slightly pointed chin, and those bloody haunting eyes.

’s eyes in the face from this morning’s dream. Recognition jolted his every nerve.

looked back at Bram. “Is this…?”

“Of course. I told you I’d deliver.”

shoved him toward her. Normally, he’d growl at the wizard for touching him. Today, his attention was fixed on Olivia.

rather, Morganna. The one woman who could end his curse.

had not believed she could make herself as beautiful as the woman in his dream. He had underestimated his opponent. That alone made her more deadly, to say nothing of the power she had surely gathered over the centuries. She looked so young, barely twenty. Though her youth was an illusion, she made him feel ancient.

turned to him. “Marrok, this is Olivia Gray.”

paused. Her hand dropped from her mouth, and she bit her bottom lip. For such calculated hesitation, the gesture looked natural. But Morganna never displayed vulnerability without a trap looming close behind.

, she extended her hand to him. Marrok stared, wanting nothing less than to touch her—and nothing more. A film of sweat broke out across his skin. Oh, how she must be laughing.

the centuries had taught Marrok to play her game.

on a shark’s smile, he enfolded her hand in his. Electricity shot across his palm, up his arm, rocking him to his soul. In that instant, his cock hardened. Blast it all, with one small touch she bewitched him, exactly like his dream…

stronger.

’s eyes widened. Grim satisfaction seeped through him.

“Ms. Gray.”

quickly withdrew her hand. “I—it’s nice to meet you. Bram has told me about you. Actually, about your talent,” she clarified. “The pictures I’ve seen are very impressive.”

had never cared about his carving, only for his reputation on the battlefield and in the bedroom. This pretense of interest infuriated him. What game did the witch play?

flustered, she glanced Bram’s way.

“Where is that piece you brought?” Bram asked him.

’d been so focused on Morganna, he had forgotten it. “In your car.”

’s gaze bounced from Marrok to Olivia, then back again.

“Well, then, I’ll…go get it. You two get acquainted.”

door chime signaling Bram’s departure sounded loudly in the room’s silence. But Olivia never looked away from Marrok. Her heart zoomed into hyperspeed.

stared as if he knew her, could see inside her. As if he were utterly aware that, just that morning, she had dreamed of being naked and wet for him, begging for his touch.

his sharp perusal swept down her body, she had the distinct impression Marrok knew he’d starred in her erotic fantasy. His scrutiny didn’t seem sexual…exactly. Still, she flushed and tingled in some interesting places.

didn’t return the interest, of course. Most men weren’t aroused by an odd-looking woman with nearly-black hair and purple eyes who resembled an extra from an Elvira Halloween spectacular. Doutful that a prime male like Marrok would be enticed by her.

stood at least six feet four. His door-frame-wide shoulders bulged, straining the seams of his black T-shirt. The fists bunched at his sides were huge. A shaggy mane of dark hair framed his haunted, hollow-cheeked face, accented by a neatly-trimmed goatee and unfathomable blue-gray eyes. His mouth twisted in a mysterious smile, as if he knew he made her nervous.

restrained the urge to toy with the bangles on her wrist. Marrok was a temperamental artist. Period. She owned an art gallery, her dream since she’d been a moody teenager living a nomadic life with her cold, overprotective mother. If she wanted to keep this place afloat, she’d better stop mooning and do business.

“I’d like to carry your carvings here,” she said. “I think you have a great deal of talent. I could help you make a tidy sum.”

raised a dark, disquieting brow. “Money does not interest me.”

? “Prestige, then? Recognition. Is that what you want?”

stepped closer, loomed above her. If his aim was to intimidate her with his sheer size…score. One of his biceps was as thick as her thigh.

“I do not seek recognition.” His tone was dangerous and rough.

’d never been so aware of being alone with a man. Of course, she’d never dreamed of being naked and aching for a major hunk, then meeting him in the flesh. But they were here for business; she had to concentrate.

a shiver, she squared her shoulders. “You must want something in exchange for your work. Tell me what, and I’ll—”

“You know what I want.”

clamped large, heated fingers around her hips. An unexpected rush of energy burst through her, like she’d been jolted with a live wire. Scary. Sexual. He couldn’t mean it to be.

head snapped back. Those pale eyes, framed by thick black lashes, drew her without mercy. His scent, woodsy and wild, went straight to her knees.

it, she didn’t know him, and he was touching her. Why wasn’t she afraid? Or at least annoyed by the one-sided lust she felt?

“No, I don’t.”

“You lie.”

fingers tightened, and he brought her closer. Their bodies brushed, his heat crashing into her. Was he…? Yes, erect. Oh God.

the lust wasn’t one-sided…Shocked to her toes, she raised a shaking hand to his chest to ward him off. He was like living, breathing stone. Everywhere.

“Stop,” she breathed.

mouth sharpened into a dangerous slash. “Stop what?”

“Touching me.” Confusing me. “Don’t.”

released her. Almost magically, the spell over her senses lifted. Energy seeped from her body in a rush. Common sense and anger returned.

“We’re discussing business.” She tried for hard-nosed professional, not trembling virgin. “I’m offering to sell your work and give you half the profits. But that does not give you the right to put your hands on me.”

, she was stunned that he wanted to.

his arms over his massive chest, Marrok sent her a contemplative stare. “Touching you was a mistake.”

course it had been.

door chime sounded, startling Olivia. She jerked her gaze around as Bram entered, silently damning the fact he’d returned sixty seconds too late.

“Found the carving,” Bram called victoriously, gripping a wooden statue Olivia couldn’t see around his big hands. “Looked all over the car, forgetting we’d stashed it in the boot.”

responded to Bram. Olivia knew she should reach for the carving, but she watched Marrok warily. His eyes were riveted on her, blazing. Anger, and something else—lust?—bled from him. The combination was bleak, powerful, inexplicable, impossible…She stepped back.

“Now that you’ve heard my offer, shall we do business?” Olivia asked.

leaned close once more. “I would rather bed down with the devil. I trust him more.”

on one heel, he crossed the room and flung the door open. The chime sounded, drowned out by the door crashing against the wall. Olivia jumped as Marrok stalked outside.

frowned. Had he been shafted by a gallery owner before? Or did he resent the fact that, for a moment he’d found the unusal woman arousing? That possibility shouldn’t hurt anymore…but it did.

“That’s bloody odd,” Bram exclaimed. “What did you argue about?”

“I don’t know.”

frowned, handing her the carving. “Here, take this. I’ll have a chat with him. No worries.”

started to tell Bram not to bother. Then she looked at the carving in her hand. A fawn. She could swear that, at any moment, she would see its legs wobble as it learned to walk. Its soulful eyes amazed her. Marrok’s talent…wow. And this was just a tiny slice of it. She closed her mouth.

would thrill art lovers. It didn’t matter if she disquieted him. Thankfully, she was used to artists’ quirks. She’d place his work on her shelves…or her business would soon go under. She needed that money to stay in England, to pay the detective and find the father she’d never met. Once she discovered what motivated Marrok, she’d work with him—no matter how difficult.

“Perfect. I want to see him again, as soon as possible.”

TWO

“WHAT THE HELL is the matter with you?” Bram barked, chasing at Marrok’s heels.

turned on him. Where was his damn sword when he needed to skewer a devious wizard?

“You knew. You bloody knew.”

“That Olivia is a le Fay? Yes.”

“Not just any le Fay. Morganna in a different package.”

paused. “That, I can’t say. Morganna predated me, so I’ve no idea what she looked like. At the moment, Olivia’s magical signature tells me only her bloodline.”

“Magical signature?”

“It’s like…her aura, but specific to her magic. Most fully transitioned witches and wizards can see them. Olivia’s signature is weak. She looks under twenty-five, the age a witch comes into her power. If that’s the case, I can’t read what I normally would.”

“Pry into her mind as you did mine. Learn who she is.”

shook his head. “With that method, I can read only her passing thoughts. Unless she happens to be thinking about the fact she isn’t Morganna, it would do no good. I could only read deeper if I were…intimately touching her.”

“Meaning?”

“The deeper the touch, the deeper I can delve into her mind.”

other words, if Bram was buried to the hilt in a woman, he could discern her life story. It should have been tempting to let Bram tumble with evil. Instead, the thought made him want to smash the wizard’s face. Though Marrok hated Morganna in her new form, he couldn’t lie; he wanted her all for himself.

“Do not lay a finger on her,” Marrok growled.

“I hadn’t planned to. Lovely girl…not interested. But if I pry into a woman’s mind, I can also read the means to unravel her, sexually speaking.”

he serious? He could figure out how to persuade any woman into carnal surrender? No wonder he was the Lothario of the magical world.

“If a woman’s first thoughts fail to tell you what you wish to know, you simply listen to her fantasies and she turns wanton for you?”

“Absolutely.” Bram flashed his signature grin. “I spent a great deal of time developing that skill.”

“Stay out of Morganna’s head.”

“Marrok, I don’t think she is Morganna. Why would her signature be so weak? My grandfather told me you could see her coming a mile away, all molten purple and iridescent.”

“Rubbish. When was the last time you saw any le Fay alive and walking?”

nodded, conceding the point. “It’s been several hundred years, yes. But her son took human lovers by the hundreds who bore children. It’s possible—”

“But equally probable that she disguises herself. There have long been rumors that Morganna could shape-shift. Perhaps she made herself into a young witch and muted her signature.”

“Normally, I’d say not, but with Morganna, anything’s possible.” Bram sighed. “If she is back and luring you into her life, she can want only one thing.”

Book of Doomsday. It had once been her greatest source of power. When Merlin banished her centuries ago, the book had mysteriously locked itself. It remained closed to this day.

“The Doomsday Diary has extraordinary powers.”

knew that personally. In the past centuries, he had been unable to open the book, shred it, deface it, or destroy it. Within moments, the little volume would regenerate, humming with power again. How could an object retain so much magic so long after its mistress had left this earthly realm?

“You have it. Save yourself whatever agony is headed your way and give it to me. I will protect it.”

“Piss off.” His long strides ate up the sidewalk.

followed. “I popped in this morning because I want to help. Not that I believed you’d ask for or accept it.”

“Wise man.”

jumped in front of him. Marrok was forced to stop or collide with the bastard.

“The book must be guarded by magickind. If it falls into the wrong hands, it could mean the destruction of every witch, wizard, and youngling. You don’t have the ability to protect it.”

centuries as the book’s guardian said otherwise.

needed the book—and the le Fay woman to unlock it—to end his curse. Then he’d consider giving it to Bram…right after a blue moon on the twelfth of never.

“If Morganna reacquires the book,” Bram said, “she could begin centuries of suffering and torture. And if my vision comes true and Mathias gets it, whatever Morganna would do will seem pleasant.”

headed for the car again. Marrok followed and slid inside, clenching his fists. He hated these contraptions. Where was a good horse when you wanted to go from point A to point B? Worse, Bram’s driving would give even the stoutest warrior a heart attack. He buckled his seat belt.

raised a golden brow. “You can’t die. Why bother?”

“You do not drive a great deal, do you?”

“No,” Bram admitted wryly. “I prefer teleporting.”

“It shows.”

threw back his golden head and laughed. “Two jokes from you in one day. I might pass out from the shock.”

“Unfortunately, you will recover.”

the engine roared to life, the strains of a harsh alternative rock song shook the car. A raspy-voiced male ground out a chorus about the animal he had become. Marrok winced. Bram ignored him and revved the car away from the curb. Not just any car, but a red Ferrari 599 GTB Fiorano. Nothing subtle about Bram.

“Nice vehicle for someone who dislikes driving.”

“When you must, why not do so in style?”

“You can appear and disappear at your leisure. Why have a car?”

smiled. “When I need to take a taciturn immortal warrior to London, does he want me teleporting him?”

“By God’s blood, nay!”

“Exactly. The humans also get agitated when we pop in and out. Not a great way to keep magickind a secret…”

“Can you turn that racket down?” He gestured to the sleek car stereo.

“The music? It rocks, old man.”

“It makes my head pound. How can you think with that shouting rattling about your ears?”

turned it down. A little. Very little.

the car at a red light, Bram leveled Marrok a stare of such gravity, he was taken aback. “Mathias will be back soon, and we must take action. I’ve already warned the MacKinnetts. Fools. They’re certain being Privileged means no one would dare harm them.”

shuddered as images from the wizard’s vision pelted him again, haunted him.

the sleek red vehicle, Bram screeched away from the red light. “Our most important task is protecting the book. Magickind, perhaps even mankind, is at stake.”

course, throw in his race, too, so he had a personal reason to care. Tricky sod…

“The possibility of Mathias returning is troubling. However, if you seek information about the book, Ms. Gray knows far more than I.” Marrok paused. “Perhaps you should let me talk to her.”

“You just stormed out on her.”

“Temporary insanity,” Marrok pleaded with a shrug.

“All right, then. Talk to her. If she is Morganna, you must be careful. Her magic—”

“Is significant, aye. But so is yours.”

“Not enough to thwart millennia-old power. Besides, I’d rather not tangle with Morganna. My grandfather’s dealings with her would predispose her to dislike me. And as his writings point out, she is one scary bitch.”

was not a good omen that Bram had a healthy respect for Morganna’s powers. Marrok cursed his randy nature for ever inducing him to lie with the she-devil.

“To talk to her, I need some means of neutralizing her. I cannot endure her hexing me again. As much as I abhor immortality, spending the rest of eternity as a toad or something equally loathsome appeals even less.”

the traffic intently, Bram tapped the steering wheel with his thumb in time to another head-banging alternative rock song.

“My grandfather left a few things in my possession. One in particular he designed just for Morganna. Something with a laggagh stone. You can make use of it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not as good with the old language as I should be. Short attention span for dull subjects.” Bram sighed. “According to Merlin’s notes, it weakens her. The minute it touches her, it will block her magic. But there are side effects.”

“Are they unpleasant for her?”

frowned. “I should say so.”

“Perfect.” What did he care if he caused Morganna a little pain after the centuries of hell she had put him through?

slanted him a harsh stare. “Be careful. If Olivia is, in fact, Morganna, she will be a dangerous adversary. And since I know she cursed you with the diary, I have no doubt you’ll refuse to hand it over until you’ve exhausted all hope of ending her charming little hex.”

“I never said I have the book.”

shot him a tight smile and shoved something into his hand. “Pretend you don’t, then. If you change your mind or need my help, toss this in the air and call my name.”

“This is a rock,” Marrok pointed out, staring at it. “Are you mad?”

“Don’t wait long to call on me. We’re running out of time.”

, Olivia struggled with the keys that locked A Touch of Magic’s front door. Her whole day—hell, her whole life—had been one mess after another.

jammed her cell phone against her ear with a wry smile. “I’m fine, Bram. Just tired. I woke up at two this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. I never ate lunch, either.”

exhaustion plagued her, its claws sinking deep.

“Sorry to hear that,” Bram murmured. “Still worried about your father?”

“Yes.”

her life, she’d been told her father died before her birth. After her estranged mother’s recent death, she’d combed through Barbara’s belongings and learned that was a lie. Armed with her father’s name, last known address, and a picture that proved she’d inherited her unusual eyes, she’d been determined to find the truth. Others found long-lost relatives with less. Her search, even with Bram and the hired detective, had turned up nothing. It was as if he’d disappeared.

worried her. Among her mother’s hidden effects had been an unopened letter her father had written nearly twenty years ago, mailed from London. Her mother hadn’t cared what it said, damn her. Not surprising. Barbara had perfected the art of cold and unresponsive.

have a roof over your head, young lady, because I do my duty. Do yours. Make better grades. Clean your room. Don’t touch me.

ol’ Mom had concealed every trace of her father. Then again, if there’d been a way to isolate Olivia or make her miserable, Barbara had pounced on it. Her suicide put an exclamation point on that fact.

the letter, Richard Gray had begged Barbara to come back to him and bring their daughter. The poignant longing in his words had brought tears to her eyes. He’d wanted to meet Olivia, know her, love her. Her. She wasn’t a burden to him.

’d vowed to protect them. From what? Did whatever he feared have anything to do with her inability to find him now? Meeting him would, at least, satisfy her curiosity. At best, he might help her get beyond her fear of letting people close. Please God, don’t let her be too late.

“My search is nearly at a dead end,” she went on. “I’ve got one more address I can follow up on, but if that doesn’t pan out…I’ll have to think of something else. I’m so frustrated.”

make matters worse, business hadn’t been great, so she feared losing this little dream shop. A Touch of Magic was her one place, her center, when everything else was crap. It was her greatest achievement to date. But she lacked the money to keep paying the detective. If she went broke, she’d have to decide: Stay here or go back to the States.

back to what? asked the voice in her head. Here, she had made herself some roots. No more moving to a new city every three months and being the new kid in town, as she had with Mom. In England, she felt more…at home. Her flat was small. She wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming cold winter. And she hated the food. Didn’t Brits believe in good enchiladas? But the sense of history, of permanency, was to die for.

“I have a feeling he’ll turn up soon. Don’t give up.”

“Not as long as there’s still a chance I’ll find him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Bram’s warmth reached through the phone. “You tenacious American girls never fail to impress.”

was a good friend. A little flirtatious, but flirting was like breathing for him. She never took his smiles and charm seriously. Besides, men typically weren’t interested in her that way.

, perhaps, for the broodingly sexy artist she’d met this morning.

sexy? Marrok had been rude. An ass.

for a brief moment, she’d sworn he wanted her. Jerk or not, knowing that had made her feel giddy and unleashed a hot tumble of desire inside her. One touch from him, and her body had lit up like a Christmas tree. Pathetic.

since Marrok slammed out of A Touch of Magic that morning, a weird ache had nagged her body. Exhaustion dragged her down. Damn it, she needed sleep or caffeine—something.

“Olivia,” Bram said. “I called about Marrok. Don’t be surprised if you hear from him. I think he feels ghastly about whatever row you had today.”

“Good. I’d planned on hunting him down tomorrow.” And keeping her libido out of the conversation. “Temperamental, but wow, his talent…”

“I thought you’d be thrilled. He’s difficult and odd. But give him a chance.”

jerked on the door handle and tried to turn the key. Nothing. Some days, the old thing took an active dislike to her. Like today. Then a stutter beep in her ear made her sigh.

“Will do. I’ve got to run. My battery is dying, and I can’t get the damn door locked.”

agreed to touch base in a few days and hung up. She tried the lock again. Jammed.

“Argh!” She pushed a strand of dark hair from her eyes. “Obstinate door.”

“Does talking to it help?”

whirled at the deep, unexpected voice. Through the darkness, a male figure towered near.

.

the shadows held most of his face in mystery, shards of desire needled her. He stood unmoving as pale glimmers of light splashed across his wolfish eyes. His tight black T-shirt clung to broad shoulders, worn denim to long, hard thighs. He was like an action figure come to life.

“You startled me.” A hint of accusation laced her voice.

him near, exhaustion wasn’t a problem. Suddenly, her body pinged with life.

“Not for the first time, I think.” He stepped out of the shadows. Light from the half-moon bathed his hard face in silvery tones. “I startled you this morning as well. I apologize.”

closed the distance between them, so quietly she understood how he’d sneaked up on her. Then he withdrew the keys from her tense grip.

a quick flick of his wrist, he locked the shop’s door. Olivia couldn’t look away from the planes of his broad back, the ripple of his shoulders.

would they feel like under her hands as he thrust deep inside her?

question blindsided her. Totally inappropriate. Completely ridiculous. Sure, he’d been erect earlier, but it was probably an involuntary reaction. Sex between them was unlikely to ever happen. Her brain was clearly in her panties.

turned and deposited her keys back in her hand. Could he see the flush climbing up her hot cheeks?

“I’ve reconsidered your offer,” he said suddenly.

’s gaze snapped to his face. No explanation of his earlier behavior, no assurances it wouldn’t happen again.

Marrok set off her personal danger sensors and lit her fire all at once, he was her best shot at success, at scraping together the money to keep searching for her father. After working at an art gallery during college, she was a pro with the high-maintenance ones. He had difficult written all over him. She’d deal with whatever he threw her way.

“So I’m no longer on par with the devil?”

had the good grace to look sheepish. “Nay.”

? What was with his archaic shtick?

“Fine. We can talk.” She glanced at her watch. “I have time for a cup of coffee.”

shook his head. “I want to show you my entire collection, work no one has ever seen.”

intimate whisper sent a medley of tingles through her. The intimation that he wanted to show her something he’d never shared with anyone hit her bull’s eye as a business owner—and a woman.

“All right,” her trembling voice answered. “Where to?”

paused. Olivia had the impression he was studying her, monitoring her every reaction. “My flat.”

then, a cab screeched around a corner and halted at the curb. Marrok opened the door and gestured her inside.

“I hired a taxi in advance, hoping you would come with me.”

warned her that only a fool would climb inside and follow a virtual stranger to his place. After all, what did she know about him? He’d grabbed and insulted her mere hours ago.

bit her lip. Bram had just asked her to give him a chance. And in her dreams, she knew intimately the feel of his hands spreading her thighs…

there.

taxi door gaped open. Olivia hesitated.

Marrok wanted to hurt her, he wouldn’t lure her back to his home in a taxi, with its driver as a witness, right? Odds were he lived in a crowded flat with three other starving artists.

climbed into the taxi and scooted to the far edge, wrinkling her nose at the odor of stale smoke pervading the car’s interior.

climbed in beside her. His presence absorbed three-quarters of the backseat. The scents of wood, earth, and male replaced smoke. He put off the kind of smell she could breathe in forever. It wasn’t smart, but she leaned closer and drew in a deep breath. A buzz of energy wound through her, like a morning Starbucks run.

’s blue-gray eyes glowed hot with lust. Then he looked away, clenching and unclenching his fists.

agitated him. Did he feel the pull between them? Her body responded, flowering with a tug of desire.

it. Stay professional.

“How long have you lived in London?” He broke the quiet as the taxi sped off.

“Six months. Almost seven now,” she replied. “You?”

“Seems like forever.”

conversation should have set Olivia at ease. Instead, she felt more edgy.

“Did you open the shop on your own?” He rolled down the window and sucked in crisp autumn air.

“Yes. I’m convinced your work would make an excellent addition to my shelves.”

“After you’ve seen the rest of my collection, we will talk.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it. You’re very talented.”

shrugged away her remark.

“Are you displaying elsewhere?”

“No.” He unclenched his fists, then clenched them again. “Why an art gallery? Why do something as difficult as open your own shop, rather than take a job elsewhere?”

“I love art.” She smiled. “When it’s well done, it takes you to another place, evokes emotions you didn’t know you had. When your life sucks, it allows you to escape into a whole new world. I mean, is there any woman who’s looked at Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus and hasn’t imagined herself rising out of the sea, reborn into something…spectacular? Or looked at Renoir’s Bal au Moulin de la Galette, Montmartre and couldn’t picture themselves laughing and dancing with the beautiful crowd, being free and alive? Art is like…cleansing to the soul. An office job…” She wrinkled her nose. “I did that one summer in college. I got fired for falling asleep, and I wasn’t good at taking direction. I’d rather have a few little shops like this that sell great art about real life to people who need its beauty. Like your fawn. That was stunning.”

“I heard you tell Bram that you moved here to find your father. By yourself?”

hesitated. She understood him asking for her philosophy about art, since they were discussing her displaying his work. She had no idea why he’d be interested in her personal life. He’d touched her earlier, seemingly been aroused by her—just before he insulted her and stormed out. Was it possible he was interested in her?

, the subject of her father was a deeply personal one. It went beyond matters of flesh and blood, straight to her heart. Bonds between fathers and daughters should be special, and Olivia couldn’t help but wish that to be true for her as well. She wasn’t going to share more than the basic facts with a stranger.

“Yes. He and my mother were estranged. I’ve never met him.” More than anything, she yearned to.

“So you live alone?”

cast him a wary stare. This was more than chitchat to kill time. Was he fishing for her marital status? No, that couldn’t be it…But the way he watched her, awaited her response, he seemed far more interested than she’d previously imagined.

“How much farther?” she asked instead as they headed south, past London’s boundaries.

“Close now.”

“I assumed you lived in a flat in London. Why move out here?”

turned to her with another probing stare that made her feel like she should protect her very soul. “Long story.”

to keep their conversation on business anyway. “I meant what I said before. I really think your work will be a hit in my shop. You’ll bring people all kinds of joy. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind.”

“After we have talked, I feel certain I will be, as well.”

answer did nothing to reassure her. She couldn’t shake the thought they were carrying on two different conversations.

“I’ve been pleased with the other pieces I carry at the gallery. What do you think?”

lifted brows, he replied, “I would rather not say.”

answer stopped a hair short of egotism. It needled her, though he was probably right.

gnawed at her nerves as the taxi sped away from the dim streetlights of the residential districts and suburbs. When they passed the last of the quaint homes, anxiety reared its claws. Where on earth was he taking her?

“Is it much longer?” she asked, pulling her gaze from the empty countryside whizzing past and peered up at his sharp profile.

“Ten minutes.”

… Olivia looked out the window again. The eerie night fog and Marrok’s odd demeanor were making her paranoid. She took a fortifying breath, reached into her purse, and gripped her can of Mace.

, agonizing minutes later, Marrok told the driver to stop at the mouth of a narrow dirt road. The drum of disquiet beat double-time inside her.

paying the driver, Marrok exited and turned to her, holding his hand out expectantly. A shiver of uncertainty rattled her. What did she

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 661